Fractured Views
by Fondued Jicama
Summary: Marcus wakes up one day and finds he isn't in a reality he knows. He wanders around the Station, finding his friends, but everything has changed because of different choices in their pasts.
1. Reality 1

_I didn't think I'd be writing anymore, because I've been blank for months. And then I watched Farscape. I suppose that's all I have to say. ;p Farscape is a crazy show with weird ideas that are so wacky... and it is full of alternate universes. This is NOT, however, a Farscape Crossover._

FRACTURED VIEWS

The change was not noticeable, at least not at first. Marcus Cole could not even say, within any degree of honesty, precisely when the difference Happened.

It was near 1400 hours. His morning had been busy with the usual mixture of waiting and watching, listening to people, and meeting with some of his contacts from Down Below. It was tedious work, sometimes boring, but he took a certain satisfaction from the process of gathering information. And he had become damn good at it.

He returned to his quarters a couple of hours after the standard lunch hour. Marcus was fairly hungry, and in an unusual stroke of ill fortune, realised well into the day that his wallet was still on the counter. His Mum had often wryly told him when he was little that he was lucky he didn't have glasses to lose.

He slid his keycard into the slot outside the door. A small red light flashed, indicating the card was not accepted. "Bugger," Marcus said through his teeth. He ran it again. The red light flashed once more, and did not turn green.

The Ranger glanced around him, out of habit, before prizing the panel off of his wall. No matter this was his apartment- it wouldn't look good for him to be breaking into something, especially if a passer-by didn't know he lived there.

He crossed several wires, pulling several more out into the open from where they hid in the shadows of the wall. After a steady five minutes of nervous working, the door opened. He placed the panel back on and stepped inside the door.

Inside was chaos to his mind. Marcus stared at the inside of his room in open-mouthed wonder: nothing he could see looked even remotely familiar.

It was not his apartment at all.

OOO

Marcus walked quickly from his quarters. A dark shade coloured his face and he wondered what the hell had gone on- the number was right and the outside was right, but he didn't live there, he couldn't. Who lived there now- and since when? Since this morning? Had he been an absolute dumbass and forgotten to pay his rent? By God, did he even pay rent anymore... didn't the Rangers cover that-? Delenn would have told him if something had changed...

None of it made any sense, but his head raced with ridiculous assumptions anyway.

He looked at his watch- at least he still had that much- and sighed. Susan would be in her office again by now. She took her lunch later than most, if she had one at all, but it was almost three. Perhaps she would know what was going on. Perhaps his quarters had been moved, and no one had been able to get a hold of him... maybe it was time for one of those wrist comms after all.

A quarter of an hour later, Marcus walked into her office. "Susan, if I may have a word-" He stopped in the doorway quite abruptly. Susan was nowhere to be seen, but Corwin was at her desk.

"Ah, Corwin. Have you seen the Commander?"

Corwin smiled benignly, but he looked confused. "The Commander, sir?" He said a little slowly. "Um, there's another one on board besides myself?" He smiled, almost a little sheepish, and pointed at his desk plaque helpfully.

Marcus looked at the plaque and blinked. Where he expected to see 'SUSAN IVANOVA, COMMANDER', he instead read Corwin's name. "Oh...right? Right. Er, yes. Have you seen Susan, then?"

Corwin grinned. "Sure, she's at her desk."

The wheels began, albeit reluctantly, to turn in the Ranger's head. He dumbly tried to reason things out- David, Commander? Why, then, if Susan was still here, who was Captain...

"Dear God," he staggered out into the hallway, and set down the corridor at a dead run.

OOO

After coaching himself ten times to open the door and walk down the hall to the Captain's office, Marcus gave up and paced. He felt mad. He was a grown man, and things like this did not happen to grown men. He wasn't in Medlab, so he couldn't blame this on a coma. He wasn't mad, couldn't be mad- after all, he'd seen his reflection in the mirror this morning, and he looked pretty good. Not that mad people couldn't be handsome too; however, if he had become instantaneously insane enough to lose his room and forget two promotions, it only seemed logical he might forget personal hygiene a la mode.

Maybe he was dreaming? Dreaming very lucidly?

He groaned with frustration and lunged to open the door. He found himself staring at the person he had come to see- yes, he was staring at her, and also at her straight shoulders that proudly displayed a Captain's bar.

"Marcus...?"

"Commaptain," he said very quickly. He stared at her. She was raising an eyebrow at him and smiling because he sounded like a fool.

"...Is something wrong with you? You don't look very... um..."

He swallowed and tried to speak at the same time. "Perfect. Couldn't be better. And yourself? John? Delenn? President Clark?"

She shook her head, barely smiling. "Forget I asked."

"Okay. Just John, then. How is John."

Susan crossed her arms across her chest. "You know how John is- Hell, it isn't as if you don't see his face on television practically every day since he forced Clark out of office and took his place. If I had a penny for every time he starts a speech with some farmlife anecdote..."

Marcus opened his mouth to speak, even though he had no idea what he was going to say. The sound of footsteps drew his mind away, and he turned to see a tall, sharply elegant blonde in Psi Corp attire coming around the corridor towards them. She looked at him only passingly, but her gaze on the Captain was warm and familiar.

"There you are, Susan. I was waiting for you." The Ranger was caught off-guard by her voice, low and thick, and tremulous. It was a rich voice, definitely one he would have remembered, but he had never seen her before.

Susan smiled, shrugging half-apologetically. "Work never ends, and Marcus was here waiting for me."

The blonde took her hand with her own gloved one and smiled. "Excuses," she said. "You always have them."

Marcus watched, amazed, as the blonde woman began to lead Susan away. "I'm sure I can make up for it somehow," Susan said back to her, her voice borderlining on the seductive. The other woman laughed.

She glanced back at Marcus. "Goodbye, Marcus."

OOO

Marcus didn't know what he felt. Maybe he felt insane. Maybe he felt like his insides were trying to rip new holes in his skin. Maybe he felt like plucking out his eyes and eating them. That at least would make a little sense. It would be normal! Oh, yes, very normal- absolutely jolly, and it would fit right in with his day!

He wandered around, occasionally running his hands through his hair in frustration. He was not mad, he was not. He had woken up this morning and things had been normal- he had received a transmission from _Commander _Ivanova- he had been looking forward to seeing Delenn later in the day-

Delenn. He started off again, once more at a run. He came to her quarters and glanced at the nameplate- Lennier?

_Ambassador Lennier? _

Marcus rang for Lennier. The placid Minbari opened the door and bowed. "An'la'shok," he said.

"Yes, Lennier, thank you and everything, but where is Delenn? Hmm? I'm not mad, but that doesn't seem to matter, does it. You're still going to say something that makes absolutely no sense, and I'm going to feel crazy, but here goes anyways, so just answer my question." He took a breath at last.

"Marcus," Lennier said calmly, "Delenn stands as the leader of the Grey Council, as she has been, and will remain so, since they recalled her and found her mission on this station to be finished."

Marcus sighed. "Bloody hell. I thought you went with her when she was tested."

Lennier's eyes widened. "Certainly not. She walked her test alone."

"But you love her!" The Ranger's hands became very expressive, and very expressively gripped the front of Lennier's robes.

"Yes," Lennier replied evenly and quietly, as he removed Marcus's hands from his front, "I do love Delenn. But I decided long ago that my place is not beside her."

Marcus shook his head. Everything was wrong. He walked away from Lennier. Several corridors away, he jumped stall walls in the market and found a corner, dark and hidden, in which he could sit. He held his head in his hands, as if he could by pressure alone keep his aching mind from flying apart, and at last he slept.

OOO


	2. Reality 2

Surprisingly, the light sleeper was awoken by rough voices and and a hand rattling his shoulder.

"What yeh think you're doing back here, eh? Out!" The hand picked him up and he simultaneously found himself waking and walking, which was a very strange and slightly uncomfortable combination.

Marcus blinked rapidly and tried to thread his way through the crowded market. He decided the best course of action was to try to talk to Susan again. Once she stopped thinking he was playing a game, she might even think he was telling the truth. Or maybe she would haul him down to Medlab, where Stephen would be able to torture him.

It was pretty even odds.

As he wended through the people around him, he tried to get some perspective. Delenn- head of the Grey Council? John as EA President...Lennier, Ambassador? Lennier had told him he had not endured the Grey Council's trials with Delenn. Perhaps, in the reality he knew, Lennier had helped her achieve some sort of crucial understanding, or set her soul down the path she needed to follow.

So this Delenn was absent from John Sheridan's life. He knew Sheridan was a good man, but even he needed someone who was a voice of wisdom instead of a voice of complete action, without direction. Had he truly seized the control of Earth singlehandedly?

Was this a world of alternate decisions? Was his world really so very close to being like the one he seemed to be living now?

OOO

He opened the door to the Captain's office and forced himself to stride down the hall. It wasn't that he was afraid of her. He wouldn't have been afraid of Susan if she was a grizzled old General; it was confronting the oddity of his situation that frightened him.

He rounded the corner and stepped into the office.

At the desk sat John Sheridan. Next to John Sheridan sat his nameplate. On John Sheridan's shoulder perched his Captain's bar. Marcus wanted to laugh in relief. He grinned. "John! Nice to see you! Thank God."

"Marcus?" Sheridan replied in his usual husky voice. He looked surprised, but he leaned forward and clasped his hands together warmly anyway. "Is there something I can do for you?"

The Ranger pointed at him. "You already did it. Thank you!"

He turned around and walked away, feeling much lighter.

Perhaps it was a dream he'd had. He didn't think people in dreams usually wondered, while dreaming, if they were dreaming or not, but he was firmly convinced he was not to worry about these sorts of things when he had just been handed amazing luck.

Marcus decided he would stop by to see Susan first, and then go back to his quarters. Her office was not far from the Captain's. He walked in, but she was not in the room. A petite brunette sat at her desk; he felt his heart skip a beat. Was she gone?

"Susan?" he managed to choke out.

The brunette smiled. "She's taken the morning off for herself. I can leave her a message- I'm her secretary, Ms. Reynolds. And your name is...?"

"Cole," he said abruptly. "Marcus Cole."

The smile widened on the woman's face. She leaned back in her chair, obviously looking delighted. "You should have said so to begin with! It's a pleasure to meet you, of course. She's in her quarters. I think she did mention to me she was wondering where you were."

He managed to remember to say 'thank you' before he disappeared down the hall again.

OOO

"Susan?" Marcus called through the comm in her door. To his surprise, there was no sharp reply or hesitation. The door swung open.

He walked inside her quarters a little hesitantly. He expected her to jump out at him like some hideously sharp-toothed monster and demand what he was doing, wandering in her room without permission. He wasn't afraid of her- no. But he knew she could knock a man out cold. Seen her do it, he had. And he wouldn't be able to stop her, because he was chivalrous and she was a woman, and it was such a burden to be nice.

"Susan?" He called again, nervously wetting his lips.

He heard her muffled reply. "In the bedroom, Marcus."

Okay. He'd never been in her bedroom. She'd never let him in her bedroom. But okay.

He slid open the frosted glass door. Susan was sitting on her bed, reading a book. Marcus stopped in the doorway, hesitantly. Susan was sitting on her bed, reading a book. Susan was sitting on her bed, reading a book. Susan was...

Something was terribly wrong in that picture. It was ten in the morning, and Susan was... In her nightgown. Reading. A book. And she didn't look deathly ill. In fact, she looked wonderful, he thought. She had put on a little weight, and it suited her quite well.

Her chuckle tore him from his nightmare. "Geeze. When you said you were going to be putting in a long night, I guess you really meant it. Come here, you zombie."

His feet betrayed his mind and moved forward. He sat began to sit down beside her, but she caught his arm.

"Careful! Watch where you're sitting." Her tone was chiding, but she spoke gently.

Marcus blinked. He was about to sit on a pillow... perhaps it was a special pillow? But she pulled the cover back and caressed a tiny head.

'Dear God,' rang a voice in his head for at least the tenth time in twenty-four hours. But this time, he was too shocked to even voice it; he could feel that shock reverberating in his entire body. A baby, dressed in pink. He looked from it to Susan, and found he could not look away: _her _baby.

He reached out and touched its tiny head, suddenly finding his hand seemed large and awkward, and the feeling of the silky hair under his fingers cemented an idea in his mind he had not even considered before. This child was real.

He could see it, feel it, hold its little hand. Wherever he was, well, he didn't care anymore. He wasn't in a place he knew, but this was a baby, this was her baby.

"She's... beautiful," he whispered. He cleared his throat. "Isn't she."

He could hear Susan humming in agreement. Her elegant hand covered his and laced between his fingers. She gently ruffled the fine hairs on the little one's head.

"You know, I hated babies for years. I couldn't stand them as a teenager, they made me so uncomfortable. My aunts... they'd come and bring some little cousin and say, 'here, you hold her.'" Marcus looked at her eyes as she spoke to him. "I was afraid I was going to break them." She smiled, shaking her head slightly. "But you can't break something that's made out of a love like this."

She was running her thumb down his hand. Marcus had another of his 'dear God' moments. His baby. His baby, his baby. He wanted to laugh and hug Susan to him because it was all so impossible, but he never wanted to leave it behind.

The Ranger was suddenly grave as he reached down and lifted the child in his arms. The blanket that wrapped her little pink suit had a name embroidered in the corner. Anna, he said to himself. He propped her face against his shoulder and felt a sigh against his neck, and little hands curl around the brown lapel.

And then she sniffled, and started to cry.

"Now you've done it," Susan said with obvious amusement. "You've awakened the cranky monster."

The cranky monster's voice rose. Susan took her from him and went into the living room, where a cradle sat, and laid her on her back.

Marcus stayed in her room. He stared at the wall. The soft sound of Susan humming something to the baby was in the background of his mind, and white noise filled the foreground; he was simply too stunned to move. Baby. He felt like an idiot, for several reasons. Mono-syllable words kept invading his mind- Baby, Anna, Susan, His- and they were driving out all intelligent thought. That was one reason.

And the other was that he was a father, and yet he had somehow managed to miss the conception. That took real talent.

Gentle warm hands slipped around his neck and began to pull him backwards. Susan kissed his neck, murmured in his ear.

"You're quiet today," she said.

He felt a smile spread on his face. Oh, if she only knew how much he'd found in just the last hour, she'd be speechless too. Marcus had always known the Commander was a different woman than the facade she portrayed at work- and sometimes he had caught a glimpse of a sweet, stern gentleness. But this was almost frightening. She was a mother.

He wondered if she had intended to be. He wondered if they were married. And he felt a huge pang of longing to hold the past he had never had.

"I'm happy," he said at last.

A genuine smile transformed her face, and he realised with delight that it made her look like a little girl. "Me too. You changed everything. You..."

She shook her head. She couldn't express anything. She kissed him instead.

Dear God.

Sometime in the future, in between a world, a sea of feeling and longing and desire, and a world he remembered to be his own (with his own Susan), a wretched attempt at conscience reared in his mind.

"I'm not who you think I am," he whispered against her shoulder. He mentally arrested his hands from her back, from the strap of her bra.

He felt her grin against his skin. "Honey, I learn that every day."

Marcus sighed a sigh of surrender.

OOO

Sometime in the night, he awoke with a start, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out- he looked to his side and she was still there. She was asleep.

He stole from the bed as quietly as he could, unconsciously holding his breath. He turned the corner and looked in the cradle where a little baby slept.

He touched her face. Swallowing, he prayed for the first time in twenty years: God do not take me away, God do not make me wake up without them, God don't let it change in the morning. Dear God.

He went back to Susan's side. Dear God.

OOO


	3. Home

Marcus blinked his eyes open and cursed.

"_Shit."_

The ceiling looked so familiar in a dingy manner, metallic and cold. It was the unfinished and cheap ceiling of Downbelow.

He felt his senses reel; his stomach came up into his throat and he nearly threw up, gagging over the edge of his bed. Oh, no. No no no. Marcus felt an anguished noise escape his throat as he folded over himself and held his head in his hands.

He pulled his own hair until his eyes were stinging. His heart hammered, flopped, felt sick in his chest. He tried to suck in air in a rhythm, tried to calm his mind so he could actually think. Think, think. Think straight.

Slowly, he got up. He felt a dull ache spread from his shoulders and thighs, and understanding hit him deeply; his legs lost their steadiness and he sank down.

It had happened. It was real. It was gone.

Marcus rose and dressed, quickly, and kept his lips pressed tightly together. If he made any sound, it would ruin the concentration he had worked so hard to gain, and he would be going in circles in the tide again and it would pull him under.

Still, he felt a stone in his stomach as he approached his door, and it was the same weight as apathy and tears. He paused and stood still and allowed himself to sigh. He was going to have to think about this sooner or later, and if he waited until he saw _her, _he wouldn't be able to keep himself together.

He stared at the door.

He remembered her soft lips, gentle against his temple; her words, guiding, praising; the color of her shoulder against a lock of his dark hair.

He'd given himself to her, completely, and he both exulted and damned himself for it. It had been the best damn mistake of his life; he would do it again; it made him shake even now with angry loss.

There was a woman out there with the exact same face and voice. A different body, but only through different circumstances. He'd bet himself his own head he'd recognise a damn good number of her moles and freckles, no matter where they were.

And Marcus had given her the greatest gift he had, and she would never even know.

Marcus resisted the urge to take out his denn'bok and smash everything in his room as he walked out the door.

xxx

He came to her office in the most direct manner possible. It was several moments before he realised he was pacing in front of the door, and forced himself to stride inside.

She was at her desk, like always: SUSAN IVANOVA, COMMANDER, said the nameplate.

He clenched his teeth when he saw it.

Susan had not looked up, undoubtedly noticing who it was and deciding whatever Marcus wanted, it couldn't be important. She kept her usual semi-annoyed expression on the paper in front of her.

"Susan," he grated out. His hands settled quickly behind him, and he started to pace the room again with some strange powerhouse of purpose.

Susan looked up, a little startled by his tone. "Marcus," she replied evenly. She was curious, but knew better than to try beating him in his own game.

"How are you." He said, with that unusual and clipped ending so oddly common with the British.

The Commander started to feel alarmed. The man in front of her was in soldier mode, but there he was, pacing and spouting pleasantries.

Susan pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, surveying Marcus in his entirety. Nothing was off about his manner of dress, and he looked in relatively good health. It was the undercurrent that bothered her; it was brusque and powerful, and at the moment its focus was entirely on her.

She frowned with her eyes. "You want a drink?" She asked lowly.

He was momentarily caught off guard. The intensity slipped, and for a few seconds he just stared at her with raised eyebrows until his mind caught up with him. "Oh. Fine, fine. But not here, I-" he glanced up at the security monitor, missing Susan's raised brow as she noted his action.

She rose in a fluid moment, her jacket on before he could blink. "My place, then." She, in turn, missed the sudden drain of colour from his cheeks.

Susan pressed her wrist link. "Ivanova to the Captain."

Sheridan's voice came through. "Ivanova, go ahead."

"I need to take an hour of personal leave, starting now. Is there anything I should cover first?"

A stretch of silence met her, and then: "Uh, no, no. It's relatively quiet up here." Susan could almost feel his shocked surprise. "Susan, if I may ask... is everything alright?"

Susan glanced up at Marcus, whose dark eyes, on a suddenly pale and drawn face, had never left her. Her mouth straightened. "I'm fine, John. There's just some things I need to do."

"By all means," he replied. "You do what you need to do, and report to me when you're finished."

"Will do," she said. "Ivanova out."

Ivanova pressed the button on her link again, and was plunged into silence.

"Well," she said, moving towards the door, "let's go."

xxx

Ten minutes later and they were sitting in chairs facing each other, a tumbler gripped in Marcus's hand.

Susan watched him in silence until she felt too stretched and annoyed to continue. "Spill."

He immediately sighed and stared down the tiny glass in his hand. "You aren't going to believe me."

"I hate it when people make that kind of assumption," she replied evenly.

Marcus looked up at her and held her gaze. Susan felt slightly unnerved by it, for the first time since she had met him; he almost looked _angry _at her, but he couldn't have been, not when he looked so tired she thought he might fall apart in her chair.

"I woke up two days ago in a... oh, God, I don't know," he moaned into one of his hands, rubbing his temples. "different station. Parallel universe. Take your bloody pick." He looked at her again, but her face was emotionless.

"You were Captain. Sheridan was President. Delenn was with the Grey Council, and it was all just so wrong. I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't drugged- I remember how that feels, it's hard to forget. And then I went to sleep again, and when I woke up, it was all different again."

Susan sat there in silence. She gave her vodka bottle a glance and inwardly sighed a little.

Marcus picked back up again in a few moments. "I looked for you again. You were a Commander this time. I..."

Susan caught the hesitance in his voice and met his eyes.

Marcus nearly flinched. She looked cold. Why was he doing this to himself?

"You found me?" she said gently. The unexpected prompt and the quiet tone infused him with a moment of strength.

"I... yes. Yes, you were in your quarters. These ones, actually."

Inwardly, she noted that that admittance left him almost looking scared.

Marcus's heart was beating in his ears. He closed his eyes, trying to find the words. "Forgive me, Susan," he nearly whispered, "I realise I don't have any place to say a word of this. God, I feel like a fool, and I... you had a child."

Susan was frowning at him. "A- child. A baby?"

His voice was small. "Yes."

Susan leaned back and crossed her arms. Marcus was acting like a loon, but he definitely believed himself. He was so pale he looked dead, across from her.

"A baby," she mused to herself. She shook her head and smiled, giving Marcus an unexpected grin.

"So who's the lucky man?"

He froze with his mouth half open. There was a moment where he struggled to pull a mask back on his features, to retreat and preserve himself, and then- the realisation that it was too late.

Susan's grin left; she felt her stomach drop sickeningly. The man in front of her was practically cringing, and she was cold. She- he- they-.

For five minutes, they sat in silence.

Marcus wanted to get up and stammer an excuse, and run away. A sad voice inside told him he hadn't come to run away. He had started to wonder why he'd come to begin with.

The Commander's face was solid and still as stone.

"We were married?" she asked flatly, feeling the silence reverberate around her words.

"Yes." He sighed, feeling so tired. "Susan, I'm sorry. I'm-"

"Don't," she commanded. She rose, hearing only the couch's rustle and her footsteps, and quietly poured two more glasses. She carried one over to Marcus and placed it on the stand next to him, noting he hadn't managed to drink the first one.

She drank her glass before sitting down.

"I believe you," she said.

Marcus brought the tumbler to his lips and swallowed.

The questions had started to plague the Commander. They were the sort of things she tried to suppress: the nagging of emotions, of wants, of could-have-beens. She pinched the bridge of her nose and decided to hell with it, the day was shot anyway. She felt calmer, now, and that was the strangest of it all.

"Was she happy?" she asked. The sound came out quiet and raspy.

Marcus's blue eyes stared intently into hers. The paleness was gone from his face. "Yes."

"Were you?"

He smiled, almost. "I don't know. He wasn't me."

He felt like laughing- he'd slept with another man's wife. But it wasn't funny, oh, it wasn't, and it hurt, and he hated that man.

Susan's voice broke into his reverie.

"So." She glanced at the Ranger. A smooth, almost predatory grin spread across her face, revealing dimples. "What was it like, being married to Susan Ivanova?"

"You believe me."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Dr. Franklin isn't here with a needle yet, you'll notice."

He paused, but seemingly decided that this answer was the best he would receive from her. He brushed all of that away and adopted the same lightweight, teasing manner as his colleague.

"I wouldn't know, you know, I was just the fill-in for a day. But the perks would obviously be worth any sacrifice."

"Perks?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"God, no. Keep me out of your fantasies."

He only smiled, his dark eyes cast down, and stretched languidly.

The Commander watched him; realizing, with a funny prickling feeling on her neck, that his body language spoke of more than just fantasies. She tried not to think about it. Ended up thinking about it anyways. Tried not to give him the satisfaction of enjoying it.

He watched her, and his amused eyes impressed her with the idea that he knew exactly what she was contemplating.

"But your daughter..." He sighed, and closed his eyes. "She has your blue eyes. My mother's full lips. Blonde hair, as absurd as that is. Maybe she'll grow out of it."

"What-" Susan asked, her throat and mouth too dry. "What was her name?"

"Anna," he replied, quietly.

She watched his face change, and suddenly the sadness of that loss was killing him. He looked old and bitter, and lost. Tired of playing games. Tired of waiting to live. Tired of fighting.

"Marcus," she said, gently. "It was just a dream."

He sighed and smiled at her. "I know. It was real. I know I felt it. But who can say now, anyway? It's about as graspable now as a dream would be."

Susan was cold. It came on suddenly, and she felt cold inside, too. She pulled a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself. "Maybe... you know... I don't know. Maybe if things had gone differently-" He looked up, and she knew he appreciated her statement. But she felt bad; it was only empty taunting, because things had _not_ gone differently.

If she hadn't lost so much in her life. If Malcolm hadn't betrayed her and Talia hadn't touched her.

"Maybe," he agreed.

Marcus fought the wells of sadness that lapped at his consciousness, allowed himself to slip back into her arms in his mind. Her beautiful, slightly rounded form against his own: the stretch marks that he traced in awe, a lineage of love. He forgot the sharp-shaped Susan sitting near him and allowed himself to sin in the only way he knew how.

Susan watched him. He looked asleep, peaceful, but the taut muscles in his jaw betrayed his wakefulness.

She wondered at how easily she believed him. In the end, it came down to the fact that he never purposefully misled her. And after Babylon 4, how could she say something as stupid and ignorant as 'not possible?'

She sighed, even more deeply than before. She pressed her cool hands against her forehead and closed tired eyes. Marcus was in love with her. Two nights off the scanners and out of his regular haunts, and here he was, willingly and openly confessing it- like a sin to a preacher. It was this more than anything that forced her belief.

Before, there had been his little games, and moony eyes. But the infatuation was gone now. It had been stolen, against his will, and replaced with calm knowing.

Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps she was impressed by his honesty. The Commander left her coldness on her bed to stand beside him in his seat. Her hands found his hair and her fingers ran through it, almost sympathetically.

His reaction- immediate- surprised her. Marcus leaned into her hands; she could not see his face. She traced the line of his jaw.

"Susan," he managed to say, voice deep and almost reproachful. It said, if you do this you will hurt me. If you make promises you can't keep- oh, it will hurt. Your lips are a promise.

But this Marcus was so different from the one she knew. And irrationally, she suddenly felt like she didn't want to be alone. It was a ridiculous feeling. She knew she was acting like a fool and nobody would be happy, but Susan irritatedly refused the thought. Sometimes she deserved to _feel _happy, even if it wasn't real.

In an hour she had gone from finding him mildly irritating to something polar opposite of all ideas associated with Marcus- at least, the ones she would have admitted to before now. His breathing, warm against her stomach, made her swallow.

But the responsible side won the struggle, if just for a few seconds- to warn him, to shift blame, to give him a chance out of it. "You should leave," she whispered, low. She continued to map the continents of his face with just the barest touch of fingertips.

His body stiffened and he almost stood; she could feel the tension pause there for some moments, but slowly with the passing seconds it eased away.

She felt drunk on his choice. She bent down and found his mouth.

"Oh, Susan," he whispered against her, so very regretfully- "I thought I'd never feel that again. You- she... made me whole." His hands encircled her body and he felt the Susan he knew. "But she wasn't you."

His voice ended so softly she could barely hear, but the words exploded in her mind.


	4. Reality 3

It surprised Marcus how easily the morning came. He awoke in his own bed, in his own room, with a complete understanding of the events the day before.

There was none of the great stabbing melancholy he had felt yesterday morning; there was the sick feeling he associated with knowing there would be more unknowns to deal with, but the feeling settled when he pulled himself out of bed and sighed in quiet resignation.

Yesterday, he had awoken frantic. Yesterday, he had been afraid he had lost everything he had ever wanted... and he had found even more.

And now that he had tasted completion, he lost his doubts about his future. He had worried, sometimes, that if he caught Susan, after all this time, he would find it wasn't what he wanted at all. But she, somehow... in her bitter, wounded brokenness, in all the crying needful things that tore at her under years of scabbing over... she was the one he wanted.

-Yes, he loved her when she was whole and he was a part of a fairytale, because to see her beautiful and happy was more wonderful than anything he had seen; and yet he found he loved her more fiercely and deeply when she was the person she had been last night, and the strong places in him found the broken parts of her.

It was penance. But oh, what a pleasure to pay for all of his past through her.

He called the lights on and quickly dressed, pocketing his wallet and denn'bok. There were things he needed to do today, things he needed to find out, because yesterday... yesterday...

Yesterday he had realised fully that his own reality was exactly where he wanted to be.

OOO

Marcus maneuvered carefully though the crowded Zocalo market, the different order of the stalls warning him that he was indeed in a different Zocalo than normal. The swarm thinned up ahead, and he squeezed his way through, only to find an even greater congregation awaiting him up ahead, around several of the news screens. He edged closer, trying to catch the words.

"...precaution, so there is no need to panic." That was Zach's voice, Marcus realised. "We apologise in advance for any inconvenience, but again, we ask citizens to make their way in an orderly fashion to Customs. Please do not bring any unnecessary luggage. This message will be repeated every five minutes until further notice. Thank you for your cooperation."

Marcus felt his mouth go dry. He didn't believe for a moment that there was no need for panic, and a quick glance around showed that none of the other listeners believed it either. A buzz had started, and it was growing, and growing, a malevolent sound that fed his unease; it was the sound of hundreds of nervous people and aliens, and more cramming in from all directions.

He turned and caught the sight of Londo Molari's hair, with the connected Londo Molari leaning heavily against the bar and clutching a short glass. Marcus jogged over to him.

"What is going on?" He asked, wondering if he should take the glass from the Ambassador's fingers before he dropped it, or smashed it between his stubby pale fingers.

Molari shook his head, but showed no other response. His eyes, dilated and wide, reflected the push and shove of the tumultuous crowd in front of him. The Ranger could barely hear his harsh whisper.

"They're coming. We're all damned, damned... damned. All this noise-" he raised a hand and in an expressive but utterly dispassionate motion included all the lives in front of him, around him, and in the Station- "all of it. It will soon be silenced, swallowed in the shadows."

Shadows.

Marcus watched him for one growing moment of horror, and then turned and pushed through the mob as quickly as he could.

OOO

Blue Sector was chaos. Hundreds of pilots lined the halls leading to the Cobra bays. Every hall Marcus had passed had seemed the same; full of panicking civilians, Babylon 5 personnel, and the vastly outnumbered security. He clenched his teeth, barely able to hear himself think over all the noise.

Even C & C was packed.

C & C wasn't where the Rangers reported, and a small portion of his mind protested that he wasn't doing his duty, no matter if this was a different Babylon 5. He should have met up with the others and done whatever was required of him. Perhaps he could have piloted a Starfury, and launched out to face the coming darkness.

But Marcus knew he couldn't have gone anywhere else. Looking around, he knew he had made the right choice; on the observation deck he could barely make out Susan, leaning over a console, surrounded by half a dozen others.

"I can't _think_ with all of you here!" she yelled, turning to face the officers around her. "You. And you. And you, and you, and you. Aw, hell- _all_ of you, in that corner, and if I _need_ you you will _know_."

The officers hesitated, and then collected in the corner before most of them were beckoned somewhere else by another officer. Only Corwin remained next to his Captain, resolutely refusing to leave her side.

Marcus waited until Corwin was momentarily called away, and then he started towards the deck. No one noticed the Ranger amongst the crowd, and no one cared. People called across the room to each other, and hurried from console to console.

Marcus glanced over the controls in front of the window. What he saw did not make him feel any better.

"Marcus?"

He spun around to face Susan, surprised and unnerved by her incredulous tone. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here- well, come _on,_ he _really_ wasn't supposed to be here- but this was different. Susan looked paler than he had seen her in a long time. Her brow was creased- she looked furious and devastatingly sad.

He stepped closer, and she tried to smile. "Goodbye, Marcus." Her eyes softened even more, and she blinked hard, once. "I... was never kind enough to you, was I." She wasn't whispering, but he had to lean closer to hear her; the sounds in the room swallowed everything but shouts.

He felt words try to leap out of his throat and say no, she had always been exactly what he had wanted, but he choked and felt himself sinking somewhere deep inside.

"It's okay." She sighed. "You know, I don't think I understood you until just now. It's life's cruel joke that we aren't that different."

Marcus stood frozen, his mind racing. He saw her close the distance between them; she pressed her lips chastely against his, and then she had stepped away and turned to the window.

"Thank you for coming, to... see me."

He waited.

"Get out of here," she said finally.

Marcus felt himself moving, at last, and he shook his head. "No. I'm going to stay here."

"Of course you are," she said flatly. She turned and looked at the few officers still at the edge of the room where she had sent them, standing too straight and too aware of their own uselessness in this situation. Susan beckoned them over.

"Take Ranger Cole out of here and get him on a transport to the planet. And get on it yourselves."

"Susan-" Marcus called over his shoulder as the officers marched him through the crowded room and towards the door.

Susan stared straight ahead. "Marcus," she said exasperatedly, her gaze fixed on some place far outside of her window, "get the hell out of my coffin."

OOO

The Station was gone.

He had watched it from Epsilon III, the explosion a bright red nova that spread and filled his horizon.

He felt sick, but that was nothing new.

More than a fourth of the population of Babylon 5 were still waiting for transports when the Shadows had come. The Starfuries didn't deter them for long at all.

Captain Susan Ivanova was dead.

Marcus sighed, only now becoming aware of all the tension he was carrying.

She had been a good woman, he found himself thinking, and the thought surprised him; it surprised him that he was not broken by her death. But she...

He hadn't even known her. He would have died by her side, and gladly, because she was still a Susan Ivanova; and yet...

Marcus glanced around. The large cavern, and many of the caverns adjoining it, were packed with people. He looked at them once with sadness before he walked deeper into Epsilon III.

He needed to find Draal. He needed to get _home._

OOO

After half an hour, Marcus began to wonder if he had possibly become directionally challenged.

"Draal!" He yelled. His voice echoed down the dark stone corridors. He slid to the ground, feeling tired and empty, and irascible with himself.

The hologram of the keeper of the Great Machine was in front of him in seconds, its light momentarily blinding him.

"You have been looking for me for a while now." Draal said, perhaps slightly amused.

Marcus eyed him wearily. "You knew? Why didn't you come earlier, then?"

The hologram folded its arms. "You hadn't called for me."

Marcus sighed heavily through his nose. "Right. I need your help."

The Minbari nodded. "I know." His critical eyes scanned the Ranger. "You have become unstuck from dimension." He stepped forward until he was right in front of Marcus, his thoughtful eyes looking far away.

"Dimension, eh?" Marcus scratched his chin and scrambled onto his feet. "Not time?"

"No," Draal said emphatically. "No, little one. You are still in Time. You still feel the effects of it. Had you been on the Station, you would have died and ended there, because you most certainly are still in Time."

Marcus instinctively glanced up, to where the Station had been, and his mind jumped to other concerns. "Why didn't the Shadows attack the planet?"

Draal raised his brows. "They would need a force greater than a few ships to consider attacking the Great Machine. They fear it, still- in this Dimension, at least." Draal headed to the right, and lights lined the edges of the floor down the corridor. "Come."

Marcus followed. The hologram slowed to keep his pace, and Draal turned his head to look at him. "I suspect you carried a little of the Babylon Four vortex with you, when you left."

Marcus frowned. "That was months ago."

Draal smiled. "_Was_ it? That depends entirely on your perspective."

Marcus looked up sharply, startled and annoyed by Draal's self-indulgent sense of humour. "Then why- why does Susan continue to show up? She wasn't on Babylon Four with us. Why is she always so important?"

The keeper of the Great Machine smiled even wider, looking down the grey hall in front of him. "That is also a matter of perspective."

OOO

A/N- When in doubt, use Babylon 4? Oh, don't look at me like that. It's only the biggest plothole in the entire series. It gives every single AU situation credibility... even, oh, say, Valen/Zathras? _Somewhere._


End file.
